Of Monsters and Men
by aqaws321
Summary: After Mac's shot while saving a young man during a mission, he's quickly pulled into a war between two rival gangs. He can insist it's a misunderstanding all he likes, but in the end, it's going to be a race against time for Jack to save him before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

**Title is inspired by "Of Mice and Men," by John Steinbeck. I've never read the book, but I liked the naming scheme.**

 **This story has been in the works since- well, I'm not actually sure how long it's been. I know I've been working on it since the beginning of March of this year, so I think the idea was probably brought up to me during mid-to-late February of this year. Tamuril2 originally sent this in to me as a prompt, and then we ended up hashing out the details over many pms and talked about stuff that they wanted to see in the story. Even they don't know everything I have planned, though.**

 **This story is currently set to be 10-11 chapters long, so I'll say 10 to be safe. I only have about 6.5 chapters written right now, and all of them need heavy editing, but I'm going to try and post one chapter a week, most likely on the weekend.**

 **Huge thanks go out to Tamuril2 for being so patient with my progress on this fic.**

 **Warnings will be put at the beginning of each chapter. I hope you all enjoy. Please let me know what you think, because I've spent so much time with this fic that I honestly can't tell how people are going to like.**

 **This is set a couple years before the show starts, and around a year after Mac and Jack started working for the DXS- which, in the first episode of the show, becomes the Phoenix Foundation.**

 **As of right now, this is not officially connected with any of my other stories, but characters from them may appear from time to time.**

 **Warnings: on-screen violence, gunshot wounds**

* * *

 _The day things go right for us on a 'milk run,_ ' Jack thinks dryly to himself as he dodges bullets, _will be the day I stop worrying about Mac on missions. Which is to say, it'll never happen._

Jack and Mac had been tasked with a simple information pickup- an agent had placed a flash drive in a locker in a train station, and the team was supposed to pick it up and return back to DXS headquarters.

At this point, Jack just hears "simple" as an abbreviation of "simply terrible."

"You okay, Jack?" Mac shouts over the noise of bullets. The two men have separated and taken shelter behind two large statues that are important to the townsfolk. Exactly why this is, Jack isn't sure. The town itself is a tiny place in the middle of Nowhere, Wyoming, and the only reason Jack can think for the agent picking this place to hide out is because it's the one place no one would suspect for sensitive information being dropped off.

Jack shouts back, "Doing just peachy! You?"

There is a moment of silence, and then Mac confirms his relative safety. "We need to take these guys down," he yells as he motions to the few civilians that are scattered around the station as they try to stay safe. Jack's silent, knowing Mac's mind is racing at this point, and instead focuses on shooting back at the three men that currently have guns pointed at him and the other civilians.

Sure enough, a few moments later, there's a the sound of a small explosion and parts of the nearest statue fall and hit the ground near enough the thugs that they're knocked to the ground by the flying rubble. Jack quickly makes his way to the men, pulling zip ties from his back pocket as he runs.

Two of the men are dazed and one seems to be unconscious. Jack quickly sets about securing the dazed men first, knowing that even though they might seem out of it, there's nothing actually guaranteeing it. He's pulled the "fake concussion" trick more than once himself.

As Jack tightens the ties around the wrists of the second man, the thug that previously seemed to be unconscious moves, lunging for his gun, which had fallen to the floor a few inches away from him. Jack moves towards him instantly, acting on years of instinct alone, shouting, "Get down," as he tackles the man.

As Jack makes contact, he hears the man's gun go off. His heart pounds with adrenaline and the fear of what he might find when he looks up, Jack restrains the man and knocks him unconscious with a well-placed punch. Then he turns towards the area where the gun seemed to go off towards, somehow knowing before he sees it what he's going to find.

Jack's heart jumps into his throat as he spots Mac. The kid's crumpled on the floor with blood pooling underneath his side. The older man dashes forward, ignoring the young man lying on the floor a few feet from Mac and staring at the blond with shock plastered to his face.

Jack gently rolls his friend onto his back, letting out a relieved sigh when he sees that the blood is coming from under Mac's hand- which is clutched around his bicep, not his side or chest, which would've been much, much worse.

The older man immediately tears a strip off of the bottom of his shirt and folds it into a makeshift pad, then tears another strip off and uses it to tie the pad over the bullet hole in his friend's arm. That done, he peers down at the younger man, who's breathing shallowly through his nose and staring up at the ceiling. Jack pats his cheek softly, bringing the blond's attention back to him. "You okay? That the only place you were hit?"

Jack had only heard one bullet discharged, but it never hurts to be sure. The agent's fears are relieved when Mac shakes his head after a moment, his eyes glassy with pain. Then, voice hoarse with pain, the younger man asks- or mumbles, more accurately, "Help me sit up?"

Jack's hesitant to do so, but he knows that the DXS- and medical assistance- would be there in a few minutes, having been called in by Jack as soon as the mission went south. He nods and, gently, assists the blond in sitting up, steadying the kid when his face paled.

Now that Mac's sitting up, Jack can see that there isn't an exit wound in the other side of the blond's bicep. Grimacing to himself, Jack sits back on his heels- still keeping a supporting grip on the younger man's unwounded arm- and looks at Mac. "I told you to get down, didn't I?"

Mac nods, his eyes absently scanning the room. Then he seems to fully process what Jack's saying. His gaze snaps up to meet Jack's, his eyes alight with panic. "I pushed someone- where-"

He's cut off as the man Jack had noticed lying on the floor near Mac earlier speaks up, a slight Italian accent coloring his voice. "I'm here. I'm fine. You saved me."

Mac stares at the guy- kid, really, because he must be around Mac's age, probably twenty-two. Jack looks too, scanning the young man for any injuries. There are none other than the beginnings of what seem to be a few very impressive bruises, and he turns his gaze back to his partner. Mac looks up at Jack, his face still pale. "That's good," he slurs.

Then he drops like a rock, heading towards the floor so fast that Jack's barely able to grab him fast enough to stop him from slamming into the stone floor.

* * *

When Mac finally resurfaces from unconsciousness, he's staring at a white ceiling and lying on something that definitely isn't the floor of the train station, given the softness of the surface. He tries to sit up, but all thoughts of motion are put to an abrupt halt when a lancing pain goes through his arm and the air leaves his chest with a harsh cough. He falls back against the cushions, his breathing harsh after the exertion.

A moment later, Jack's hovering over his bed, his expression a strange mix of relieved and worried that bizarrely makes Mac want to laugh. They've probably got him on the good stuff. "You're finally awake. How you feelin'?"

Mac groans again. "Like I got shot."

A smile flickers across Jack's face. "That's… pretty accurate. You were shot on our mission- the data, remember- while you were pushing some kid out of the way of a bullet. You lost enough blood to make you pass out, but when the paramedics examined you they were able to stabilize you. They got the bullet out of your arm, but Patty insisted on you being brought here to L.A. for observation."

Mac digests all of this, blinking slowly at the sudden onslaught of information. Then he asks, "How long until we can leave?"

Jack smiles at that- a real smile, his first in a while. "Well, I can leave any time I want. You, however, have to wait until Friday."

Mac glances over at his friend, suspiscious. "And what day is today?"

Jack's grin grows wider. "Monday."

"Jack, that's four days! I was shot in the arm, not the chest; there's no need for me to be here that long."

"The doctors said that there was something on the bullet. They want to make sure it isn't a slow-acting poison- they know enough about law enforcement and gangs that it's a real concern. Plus, Patty says she knows who the people that shot you were, and they've got a bit of a reputation for pulling dirty tricks like that."

Mac sighs, attempting to bring his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose but quickly stopping as pain once again shoots through his arm. "Fine. Not like I've got any choice in the matter."

Jack shrugs, not even trying to hide his smile. "Not really."

The blond glares at him, but there's no venom in his tone when he mutters. "I hate you."

Jack just laughs. "I know."

* * *

A few hours later, just as Mac's beginning to become bored enough to have a familiar light in his eyes that Jack knows means 'hide the toasters you want to keep functioning in a normal toaster capacity, because anything he finds will never be the same,' a man knocks on the doorframe of the room.

Jack looks up from where he's watching his friend look up DIY videos on his phone and realizes that the man is vaguely familiar, as well as someone- a much younger someone- trailing behind him that is definitely familiar.

The guard that has been stationed outside the door glances in over the older man's shoulder. "They said they wanted to talk to you, Mr. MacGyver."

Mac glances up from his phone, turning it off and setting it on the bedside table. He stares at the younger of the two men standing in the doorway for a moment before his face lights up in realization. He motions towards the man. "You're the guy from the train station."

The young man nods. "Yes, and this is my father. May we come in?"

Mac nods back. "Yeah, come on in."

The older man takes the remaining seat in the room, while the younger stands behind him. As soon as they're situated, the older man begins to speak. "I am Francis Colombo, and this is my son, Antonio. We came to thank you for saving Antonio's life."

Jack noticed with interest that the man had a thick Italian accent, something that isn't too common in sunny L.A. Then he turns his attention back to Mac, and has to fight theurge to laugh at the embarrassed flush creeping up the blond's neck as his tendency to stay out of the spotlight showed itself. The blond awkwardly shrugs, shaking his head. "I mean, I didn't really do that much. I just shoved him out of the way without thinking."

Antonio speaks up for the first time, shaking his head vehemently. A faint Italian accent paints his words. It's not as strong as his father's but it's still there. "No, you did very much. It was very brave of you to do that in the situation we were in."

Francis inclines his head. "Exactly. If there is anything we can do for you, you must let us know. We owe you a debt of gratitude."

Jack, in the back of his mind, feels something prickle, but pushes it aside. He was probably being paranoid. Leaning forward in his chair, he speaks to Antonio, who looks to be about the same age as his friend, perhaps a year or so older. "How did you guys find us?"

Francis shrugs. "I am very connected, and I have a few friends in your organization. A Miss Thornton and I go very far back."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I see."

The four sit in silence for a moment before Francis stands. "Again, you must tell us if there is anything that you need. I cannot thank you enough for saving my son's life."

MacGyver nods awkwardly, and Antonio says a quick goodbye as well before following his father out the door.

Once they're gone, Mac glances over at his friend, who is staring out the door after their visitors with a strange expression on his face. "You okay?"

Jack shakes his head briefly, as if dismissing a thought or two. "Yeah, just… that guy seems really familiar, and I don't know why."

The younger man shrugs. "He said he was friends with Thornton, so maybe he's come to the office and talked to her a few times. I mean, he obviously knew that we were some type of agency."

Jack frowns at that. "Yeah, and he was really subtle with the way he slipped that in there, like he wanted us to know that he knew, but he also knew that we didn't want anyone else to know that he knew or to know what we did."

Mac stares over at his friend. "Know doesn't even sound like a word anymore."

Jack breaks into a grin at that, reaching forward and ruffling Mac's blond hair. "Nerd."

The younger man squawks, arms flailing as he reaches up with his good arm to try and fend off Jack, but he has an unmistakable look of tiredness about him. Jack frowns as he ses the way Mac's energy is flagging, and leans forward. "You doing okay there, bud?"

Mac nods again, trying to hide a wince as he pokes at his bicep. "Yeah, don't worry about me."

Jack narrows his eyes at his friend. "You're looking kind of pale there, man."

Mac shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, but his effort is ruined by the way his face is pinched with pain, especially around his eyes. The older man nods to himself before standing. "Yup. Those pain meds are probably starting to wear off, I bet. I'm gonna go get someone to give you some more. Be right back."

Jack walks out, ignoring the glare that Mac's giving his back. A moment later, he's back with a kind-looking nurse, who takes Mac's pulse as she talks. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad's the pain?"

Mac pretends to think. "Maybe a three."

Jack scoffs. "That means at least a seven, ma'am."

The nurse smiles as she finishes taking Mac's pulse. Then she hands him a couple pills, motioning for him to take them. The blond hesitates, and the nurse says, "I was under the impression that you wanted to be out of here by Friday?"

The young man nods warily. The nurse, a middle-aged, motherly woman, smiles again and continues, "Well, unless you take those pills, you're definitely not going to be able to get out of here before Monday, at the earliest."

Mac takes the pills.

Jack huffs a small laugh, and, ignoring the glare that his friend sends his way, says, "Thank you, ma'am."

The nurse smiles again- she seems to be a very happy woman, given the amount of time that she spends with a smile on her face- and leaves, humming happily to herself. Jack watches her go, muttering, "I like her," before turning his attention back to his friend.

The younger man is slumped down in the bed, his eyelids already beginning to droop. Jack watches as the young man falls into a doze, and finds himself thinking yet again about the strange visitors from earlier that day.

* * *

In the hospital parking garage, a slightly stout middle-aged man sits in his car and speaks into a cell phone. "I found him. How do you want me to proceed?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Shorter chapter this week. also, i just saw the new ep and i loved it. thoughts from you guys?**

* * *

A small, dimly lit diner is filled with people that are talking quietly to themselves. There's something in the air, though, something that draws one's attention to the way that the people seem a bit too alert, a bit too on edge to be casual customers.

The owner keeps his head down and goes about business as normal. He knows better than to try and ask what the two men in the corner are talking about, their tones low, one threatening, the other being threatened, or to look too closely at the mysterious, just-visible lumps underneath the shirts of almost everyone in the diner.

In the corner, a large, muscular man- dark-haired, around sixty years old- stares across the table at a shifty man with small, beady eyes and yellowing teeth. The taller man rumbles, "You said you found him?"

The rat-like man nods. "Yeah, Mr. Bianchi. He's in the hospital, all laid up in bed. He's got a friend with him- I think they're brothers or something, probably from a remarriage, if the age difference is anything to go by- and today I saw both Colombos visit the kid."

The man falls quiet, his face twisted anxiously, and Bianchi thinks for a moment before replying. "I see. He's definitely high up in the mob, if both Colombos visited him. I don't think that the other man is as important, if he is as you say, Torny."

The smaller man- Torny- hastens to agree with the other man- his boss, perhaps. "Yeah, he looked more like a bodyguard than someone important, if you know what I mean."

Bianchi barely spares the man a glance as he continues to think. "Yes, my plan will work out nicely. You know what you are to do?"

Torny nods again, his head bobbing with eagerness. "Yeah. Get close to the kid, get him to trust me, see what I can find out by doing that."

Bianchi speaks slowly, his eyes narrowing. " That is correct." A beat of silence, then, "I know your character, Torny. I hope you know that if you defect, if you betray me, if you give even a hint of this plan to Colombo, I will kill you myself. I will make whatever he promises you- be it violence or something you desire- irrelevant. Do you understand me?"

Torny visibly swallows, his prominent Adam's Apple bobbing with the motion. "Yes, sir."  
Bianchi sits back, pleased. "Good."

* * *

As Torny exits the diner a stiff breeze blows past him, bringing his attention to the fine line of sweat that has sprung up along his rapidly receding hairline. The man lifts a hand to wipe it away, and, as he does so, he hears a noise in the alleyway that he's passing by. Curious, he turns, peering down the dark street.

Curiosity killed the cat, they say, but Torny is not a cat- although a cat might be smarter.

Another noise sounds, as well as what seems to be a cry for help from a woman. His mind full of visions of himself heroically saving a woman and her being grateful fill his head as the he begins to make his way into the darkness.

As he reaches the end of the alleyway, wondering where the woman and her presumed attacker are, a light clicks on and shines directly in his eyes. The man raises a hand to try and shield his eyes, whimpering at the unexpected brightness.

There's a disgusted noise, and the light drops to his midsection, allowing Torny to squint through the reflexive tears that've sprung up in his eyes at the mid-thirties, dark-haired, muscular woman a few feet away from him and her companion, a man whose face looks exactly like her's. There's a moment where no one moves, and then-

Torny's head is shoved into a sack and, as he struggles, the man is shoved into something. The trunk of a car, perhaps. He lands on the floor with a thud that winds him, and then something over him slams shut.

Definitely a trunk, then.

The vehicle that he's in starts to move, gradually picking up speed. The man is trembling by this time, unsure of what is happening, who has taken him, and what is going to happen to him.

It isn't exactly the best position to be in after a conversation with a mob boss.

Finally, after what Torny guessed might have been around twenty minutes- his internal clock has never been the best- the vehicle rolls to a stop.

The trunk is opened, and rough hands grab the man and haul him from the space. Torny's forced to walk quickly for a short time, the bag still on his head and preventing him from seeing a thing.

Suddenly, the man is jerked to a stop, almost making him fall to the floor. The hands on his arms prevent him from completing the trip, but there are a couple of strained grunts. Bizarrely, distantly, almost detachedly, Torny feels vaguely offended at that.

The man is forced into a sitting position, and his arms are quickly taped to the arms of the chair he is shoved into. The bag is whipped from his head, and there's a blinding light in his face that makes him instinctively duck his head in an effort to shield his vision.

Someone grabs his hair and forces his head up until he's staring at the face of someone who has seemingly come from nowhere. The person is intimidating, as anyone who's six and a half feet tall, sporting multiple tattoos on their neck alone, and has biceps that are bigger than one's head and could probably crush watermelons just as easily as a fly is.

Needless to say, Torny is terrified.

The man in front of him growls out a question. "Who are you working for?"

Torny closes his lips and shakes his head. The man grabs the front of his shirt and shakes him, which, combined with the hand that is still holding his hair, makes for a painful combination. "I know that you work for Bianchi. Where is he?"

Torny shakes his head again, this time more desperately. He might not be completely sure what's going on, but he knows better than to answer questions such as this.

Another shake, accompanied by two quick, painful blows to the stomach.

Then the man pulls out a gun.

Torny's heart stutters, stops, then starts again, double-time. The man looms over him, and Torny knows he's about to die. "Where does Bianchi normally go?"

Squeezing his eyes closed as he whimpers, Torny shakes his head one last time. There's the sound of a gun clicking, and all the man can think is _at least this way it'll be quick._

A shot fires, and Torny flinches. The hand holding his hair vanishes, and an ominously calm voice says, "Last chance."  
Torny gasps out a quick, "Please," but the voice continues to talk even as the cool barrel of a gun is placed on his chest, the chill burning through the fabric of the shirt. "Where- is- Bianchi?"

Torny clamps his lips together as tightly as possible.

There's a beat of silence, and then, the sound of footsteps. Slowly, carefully, confusedly, Torny unclamps his eyelids. He's greeted with the sight of Bianchi himself emerging from the shadows. Bianchi gazes down at the other man and is silent for a moment, then says, "Good. I know you won't betray me."

Torny stares up at the man, trying to process what's just happened. Was it was all a test?

Bianchi motions for his thugs to cut Torny loose, and then walks away, leaving the other man shaken and wondering just how deep he's gone.

* * *

 **so, what are you guys thinking now? there was a theory or two last chapter that was kind of accurate, but this should shed some new light on things.**


	3. Chapter 3

**hope yall like this bc when i post this its like 12 am and im dead tired and just got some kind of sad news bc i wont be seeing one of my good friends near as much anymore so**

 **warnings: none**

* * *

 _ **Monday**_

The Colombos leave, and Jack turns back to Mac, only to see his friend rapidly growing paler and shakier from pain and tiredness. Shaking his head at his friend's stubbornness, he reaches over pulled the covers up a bit. Mac glares half-heartedly at Jack, but the effect is ruined by the large yawn that overcomes him after a moment.

When Mac glances back at Jack, his friend has a strange expression plastered to his face. "What?"

Jack shakes his head again. "You look like you got run over by a truck. Actually, scratch that. I'm pretty sure I've seen roadkill that looks better than you."

Mac rolls his eyes. "Ouch."

Jack rolls his eyes right back at Mac. "I'm serious, man. You need to rest."

Mac sighs. "Fine. But only because I'm tired, not because you told me to."

"Whatever, Mac."

* * *

 ** _Tuesday_**

Mac wakes at about eight o'clock. He's feeling surprisingly well-rested, and, as soon as he sees Jack crashed on the couch, he begins to sit up to find something to throw at Jack to wake him up, something Jack's done to him numerous times on missions.

As he gingerly starts to move, wary of going too fast and agitating his wound, there's a slight sound from the doorway. The young man looks up curiously. His gaze comes to rest on a nervous-looking man that stands in the doorway. Still somewhat on edge from his previous mission, Mac automatically sizes him up as a potential threat. He's middle-aged, slightly stout, and Mac had no doubt that he or Jack would be able to take him out in a heartbeat.

Relaxing, the young man gives a small wave, which the man reciprocated. Mac waits a moment, and, when nothing else comes from the man, says, "Uh, can I help you?"

The man starts. "Um. I was just wondering which direction the elevators were in? I'm visiting my friend, and I've been trying to find someone that can tell me how to get to the elevators or the stairs, but you're the only person I've seen so far." The man spreads his hands apologetically. "I'm sorry to have to disturb you, but you were awake, and…"

He lets his words trail away, and Mac grins awkwardly, trying to put the older man at ease. "Don't worry about it. Um, I actually don't know where the elevators are, but my friend should." Mac points at Jack, who's still lying on the couch, seemingly asleep. "Jack, I know you're awake."

The man stays still for a moment, then heaves a sigh, swings his feet off the couch, and stands in one fluid motion. "I was trying to go back to sleep." He offers his hand to the man and says, "Jack, and this is MacGyver."

The man starts again, jumping forward to enthusiastically pump Jack's hand. "Oh! Pete Torny. Local police officer."

Jack nods. "Thanks for your service." The man smiles, his eyes flicking away for a second before returning to Jack's face. "Thanks. So," turning to MacGyver, "What're you in for?"

Mac grimaces. "I was in a shooting. It hit my arm. Wrong place wrong time, you know."

Torny nods, a sympathetic expression on his face. "Must've been scary."

Jack widend his eyes a hair, desperately swallowing down the laugh that's bubbling in his chest. "Yeah, there was so much blood. I didn't know if he was gonna make it. I don't know how you do what you do, knowing that there's a chance you could deal with that every day."

Torny folds his arms as he puffs out his chest. "It's hard at first, but you get used to it."

There's a small silence, and then Torny turns towards the door. "Well, I'd better visit my friend. Where did you say the elevators were?"

Jack points to the left. "Straight down the hallway, then take the first right. They're just down that hallway."

"Thanks." When Torny reaches the door he turns, as if remembering something. "Oh, how long will you be here? I'd like to stop by again, if I can. You remind me of my little brother."

Mac shrugs, wincing at the spike of pain that the motion drives into his shoulder. "A few more days."

Torny nods. "I'll see you again, then. Have a good day."

"You too," Jack calls after him.

* * *

Once Torny's safely in the elevator he sags against the wall, wiping the sweat that's sprung up along his upper lip. He doesn't know if he'd ever been under that much tension in his life. He remembers the way that he had come up with his fictional brother on the spot and congratulates himself. After a moment, the adrenaline begins to fade, and his chest swells with pride at how well he's done deceiving the two men.

 _I'm pretty good at this whole spy thing. And I figured out how long the kid was staying, just like Bianchi wanted me to._

He buries the thought that he's delivering someone to a fate no one would wish on their worst enemy. He's gone to far to break away now.

Besides, better someone else than him.

* * *

Mac and Jack wait until Torny's out of sight before allowing their grins to break free. Jack says, "Well, that was… interesting."

"No kidding. He wanted to know where the elevators were and he just went to a random patient? And then he says that said random patient reminds him of his brother?"

"I don't know, man."

"Oh well. He seemed nice, at least."

Jack's grin grows. "And you'll get to see him again!"

Mac rolls his eyes.

They pass the morning in a quiet manner, playing cards and watching more DIY invention videos. There's one in particular that impresses Mac and makes Jack roll his eyes. It's a homemade soda fountain- one that worked exactly like the ones in restaurants, just smaller. Jack tells Mac exactly what he thinks of it. "It's dumb. Why can't you just pour the soda?"

Mac shrugs. "It's the principle of the thing. It's a much easier thing to do."

Jack rolls his eyes again. "I think the effort that goes into making it outweighs the benefits here."

"Whatever, Jack."

* * *

That afternoon, Francis and Antonio show up again. The older Colombo moves to sit down in the vacant chair on the opposite side of Mac's bed that Jack was on, his son standing behind him.

The agents exchange glances, bit unsure of what's happening. Francis notices, and waves a hand. "My apologies for barging in like this, but I wished to tell you something, and I could not risk coming after you left the hospital." Not pausing to give Jack and Mac time to reply, he continues. "I would like to invite the two of you to dinner as soon as possible- after Mr. MacGyver recovers enough, of course."

A moment later, Jack nods. "We'd love to."

Francis slaps his hands once as he abruptly stands from the chair. "Good. I look forward to seeing you."

With that, he leaves. Antonio, however, takes a notepad from his pocket, smiling apologetically. "Sorry. My father sometimes forgets to leave information like his phone number, which would be helpful if people needed to contact him. Just give me a second."

Mac smiles. "I know that feeling. Jack here always makes me help him with anything tech related too- he calls everything new-fangled and complains about how much better everything was in his day."

Antonio laughs as Jack gives a good-natured "Hey!" and reaches out to ruffle Mac's already-messy hair, making it stand up even more than it already is.

Antonio tears the piece of paper from his notepad and hands it to Jack. "Here you go. Call that number when you're ready to set up a time for dinner."

With that he leaves, albeit much less dramatically than his father. Mac and Jack watch him go. Once he's gone Jack says, "They seem nice."

Mac nods. "Yeah, they do."

* * *

Antonio slides into the car next to his father. The older man surveys his son, then says, "I forgot to leave the phone number, didn't I?"

Antonio nods. "Yeah, but don't worry about it, father. I gave it to them."

Francis smiles. "Good."

There's a beat, and then, "We aren't going to tell them about the family business, are we, father?"

"No. We will protect them if it ever comes to that, but there is no need for them to know what we do."

* * *

 _ **Wednesday**_

Wednesday is a slow day, starting out. Jack wakes at seven- his back protesting after another night on the couch- to find his friend still passed out on the bed in a pair of sweats and a light blue t-shirt, looking strangely young.

Quietly, Jack rises and leaves of the room. He's been drinking too much hospital coffee lately.

When the older man returns, he finds Mac sitting up in bed and building something with a pack of cards. Jack knocks on the doorframe and grins as the younger man's head shoots up, his gaze lighting up when he sees Jack, his hair still mussed from sleep. "You got actual coffee?"

Jack nods. "Couldn't take that watered-down bean juice that they have here."

Mac reaches for the coffee, and Jack hands it to him as well as a bagel."Eat this too. It's poppyseed."

Mac takes the bagel, breaking off a bit at as he watches Jack down half his coffee in one go. "I don't know how you do that."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Drink that much coffee while it's that hot."

Jack looks down at his coffee, then shrugs. "Experience and determination."

"That doesn't even make sense in this context." Mac rolls his eyes and finishes his bagel. Then, carefully setting his coffee to the side, he goes back to building the card castle- and castle really is the only way to describe it- that he's started on the bedside table.

Jack watches him for a while, then pulls out a book that he bought at the small gift store in the hospital. Peaceful silence reigns for a couple hours.

The silence is abruptly broken by the jarring sound of a phone ringing. Mac jolts, startled by the noise, and knocks down half his card castle. Sighing, he begins to pick up the fallen cards as Jack answers his phone. "Dalton."

There's a beat, then Jack furrows his brows. "What? My house?"

Another stretch of silence, and then Jack stands, grabbing his car keys. "Um, yeah, I'll be right down."

Hanging up, the older man turns to Mac, who's watching him curiously. "I have to go. Someone broke into my house. I'm sorry, I don't want to just leave you here, but I'll be back to pick you up tomorrow-"

Mac cuts him off. "Jack, go. I'll be fine. You need to take care of this. Besides, I just have one more day before I'm out. It'll be _fine_."

Jack nods, talking more to himself than to Mac. "Yeah, nothing's going to happen-"

Mac interrupts the older man again. "Jack. Go."

Jack nods again, turning towards the door. He pushes down the sudden foreboding that strikes him.

He leaves.

* * *

 **credits for the soda machine video to some diy account i follow on instagram. yall should google the video bc its actually pretty interesting lol**


	4. Chapter 4

**stuff starts to happen. this is a chapter i was actually excited to write!**

 **warnings: canon-typical violence**

* * *

It's nine o'clock the next morning and Mac's sitting on the chair by his bed, halfway to being bored out of his mind. He's working on his house of cards again; he saw an interesting design on the internet the day before and had wanted to try it out.

Just as the young man places the last card and starts to draw his hand away, there's a knock at the door, startling the blond and causing him to knock down the entire tower. Mac stares morosely at the fallen cards before turning in his seat to see Pete, the cop from Tuesday, standing awkwardly in the doorway and waving to the younger man. Mac forces a grin onto his face. "Pete, what're you doing here?"

Pete shrugs, glancing at his watch. "I was just going to stop by and say goodbye. My friend was discharged today, and I wanted to talk to you one more time."

Mac nods awkwardly. "Well, um, thanks. I'm getting out today as well, so…"

He lets his words trail off, and the two men stay in awkward silence for a few moments before Pete says, "Hey where's your friend? Dalton?"

Mac makes a vague gesture with his hand. "Oh, uh, his house was broken into last night. He's going to be back in a couple hours to pick me up from here, though."

Pete nods, then looks at his watch again before beginning to back away. " That's good. Um, I've got to get going, I have to be at work in half an hour. I hope you have a speedy recovery, though!"

Mac waves silently, watching the older man leave before turning back to his cards. Something about the man unsettles him, but he doesn't know what.

He's glad they won't be meeting again in the near future, though.

* * *

When the doctor comes into the room examining a medical chart, Mac's sitting in the chair, tapping his fingers on his arm as he thinks. As soon as the older man looks up, Mac stands, hoping the doctor will just give him a clean bill of health and tell him to leave.

The doctor glances back at his clipboard one more time, then transfers his gaze to the young man before him. "How are you feeling, Mr. MacGyver?"

Mac shrugs, careful not to show how the way his arm twinges with pain affects him. "Great."

The doctor nods. "That's good. Would you mind letting me have just a peek at that wound of yours?"

Obligingly, Mac offers his arm, glad that he was wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt and that he won't have to take his shirt off- the hospital is cold.

The doctor spends about three minutes prodding and poking the wound, making various hmm-ing noises in the back of his throat. Finally, he looks back up at Mac. "Well, I won't lie and say that I don't wish you would stay over the weekend, but if you take the antibiotics I give you, you'll be just fine. I will warn you, though, you're going to be a bit sore over the next few days, so try not to do anything too stressful, okay?"

Mac pulls his sleeve back down, relieved. "You got it."

The doctor returns to his clipboard, scribbling something down quickly before turning to leave. "A nurse will be in in about an hour to give you your antibiotics."

Mac nods. "Thanks."

With that, the doctor left, and Mac settles in to wait until the nurse shows up, and then until Jack arrives.

* * *

Ten minutes after the first doctor leaves, another one came in. He's slightly younger, tall, and looks about as weak as a brick wall.

Mac sits a bit straighter, his training kicking in, and alerting him to the possible threat. It isn't that he suspects the doctor, exactly, it's more that he's been conditioned over the years to react in a certain way to anything that is a potential threat, likely or not.

This doctor is also looking at a clipboard and, as he enters the room, he looks up at Mac. "I need to give you a shot for infection before you leave."

Mac is immediately wary. "The other doctor said I didn't need anything else."

The new man rolls his eyes. "Yeah, and he forgot something. It happens. Let me give you your shot. I've got other patients to attend to."

Mac narrows his eyes. Normally, doctors don't push this hard. Something is off. "Can I see the medical info that states I need a shot?"

The doctor sighs, walking closer. Once he's within arm's reach of Mac, he throws the clipboard at the younger man, who instinctively brings his arms up to block it.

Moving while the blond is distracted, the larger man shoves Mac's lean body, slamming him against the wall and forcing the air from his lungs. Mac wheezes, taken by surprise, and struggles to draw air in. He's stopped by the man's hand, which is now clutching his throat and holding him high against the wall. The blond's feet dangle in the air, kicking at the fake doctor. The man, growing annoyed with the one or two kicks that Mac has managed to land, drives his fist into Mac's stomach.

Mac instinctively tries to bend over, but is stopped by the man's hand, which is still at his throat. The man, breathing a bit heavily from his exertion, glares at his captive. "See," he growls, "All this could've been avoided if you just listened to me."

Still glaring, he pulls a syringe out of his pocket. It's filled with a clear liquid that seems, by everything from its color to the way it sloshes in the syringe, to be sinister and threatening. Keeping his eyes on Mac, the man uses his teeth to pull the cap of the syringe off of the top of the needle. Then, carefully inserting the needle into the base of Mac's neck- a feat made easier by his captive's rapidly weakening struggles- he depresses the plunger, forcing the liquid into Mac's veins.

The young man feels a cool, rushing sensation, and then his control over his muscles begins to dissipate. When the man releases Mac, he dropped to the floor, hard. Dully, he realizes that he'd having trouble processing the outside world as well. Everything is a complete blur, bright colors and light pricking at the edges of his vision.

He's vaguely aware of being picked up and set in a wheelchair, and detachedly notices that someone else has entered the room and is helping his attacker.

Mac's barely aware of being wheeled through the hallways and into the parking garage, but his senses have begun to come back to him by the time he sees a large black van looming in front of him.

His weak struggles are soon silenced by a harsh backhand by the man that must've brought the wheelchair into the hospital room, the one helping his attacker. The door of the van is thrown open, and Mac's hauled to his feet and thrown inside.

He slides across the floor until he can get his hands underneath him, and, as he tries to stand, a large weight that feels like a boot hits his back and pushes him back down into the floor, then moves to dig into his side and turn him so he's face up.

Mac blinks up at a familiar face. Blond strands of hair fall into his eyes, partially obscuring his vision. Vaguely, he's aware of being yanked to his knees and having his hands zip tied tightly- too tightly- behind him. "Pete?" He slurred. "What're you doing here?"

Pete grins, an oily, greasy expression that seems too at home on his face for anyone to not feel disgusted. "Just doing my job."

Mac, still groggy from his recent beating, can only watch as Pete holds up a familiar-looking device and thumbs it on. The distinctive sound of a taser fills Mac's ears as a horrible, burning pain sets his nerves on fire and the world goes black.

* * *

 **;)**


	5. Chapter 5

_**IMPORTANT 5/11/17**_

 _ **Updates will be every 2 weeks from here on out. i'm entering a busy point in the year and i need more time i'm sorry for the delay**_

* * *

 **im pretty sure this is the shortest chapter in the story, but it's probably one of the most action packed, and the next chapter is one of the longest.**

 **i just want to take a minute to especially thank everyone who's reviewed this story. ive been lacking motivation to do a lot of things recently, and every review really helps me continue, especially with something like this that ive put so much time and work into. so. thanks, guys :).**

 **warnings: on-screen violence, vague on-screen violence**

* * *

Mac wakes slowly, consciousness gradually coming back to him. Once he's fully awake he's aware enough to remember to keep his eyes closed and his breathing regulated. He's experienced enough to know that it is sometimes better to gather information about his surroundings before visibly showing that he's awake, and he makes the executive decision that this is one of those times.

He's on something that is stiff and doesn't have any give, but has a rough, almost- but-not-quite fuzzy texture. A rug, maybe?

Before he can gather any more information about his surroundings there's the distinctive sound of someone clearing their throat, and a deep, slightly accented voice says, "I know you are awake, Mr. MacGyver."

Letting out a tiny sigh, MacGyver sits up- which hurts more than it should- and takes in his surroundings. The young man is sitting on a rug that looked so expensive that he's pretty sure it costs more than his entire yearly salary. The rug- and him- are in what seems to be a living room, complete with a few chairs, a fireplace, and a large, also expensive-looking, couch. Seated on the couch is a large, muscular man of markedly Italian descent. His hands are folded and he's watching the blond with a curious expression that makes the younger man feel a bit too much like a piece of prey being examined by a falcon before it's eaten for his comfort.

Mac scans the rest of the room and finds that there's six men that are obviously guards scattered through the room, four standing along the walls and two behind the couch.

Slowly, cautiously, Mac stands. After watching Mac for a few moments, his gaze becomes more unsettling, like a falcon examining its prey before it swoops in for the kill. The man speaks. "I know that you know that I am Antonio Bianchi. I know that you are working for that dog, Colombo. What I do not know is how far up in his organization you are."

Mac stays quiet. He's not entirely sure what's going on, and he's found that, more often than not, the best choice in these situations is to keep his mouth shut. The man- Bianchi, apparently- frowns. "In case you did not catch it, that was an invitation for you to provide me with the information I want to know."

The blond raises his hands in a placating manner. "Look," he starts, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bianchi motions to the guards along the wall. It was a slight motion, nothing more than a twitch of his fingers, but they reacted instantly. Two of them move behind Mac so quickly that he's caught off guard,his brain still working slowly from the effects of the drug. One pulls his arms back behind him, pinning them together and bringing the young man off balance. The other punches him- his face first, then his stomach, and then he loses track of the blows, time blurring into a painful haze.

Dimly, he wonders why he's surprised at this turn of events. There really wasn't any other way this could've gone.

After a minute or so, Bianchi calls them off. The blond slumps in the grip of the two men, his head dropping until his chin grazes his chest, held up by a firm grip on his bicep. He sags to the side, his ribs twisting painfully at the odd position, but Mac lacks the energy to hold himself level.

Bianchi speaks from where he's sitting on the couch, his threatening words contrasting with his relaxed posture. "This is just a taste of what awaits you if you do not give me what I want." When Mac's lips stay closed, his gaze hardens. "I think you will find that I am a merciful man if I receive what I ask for. If not, well, I do not become your worst nightmare. No, I become something worse."

The guards, acting on some signal from Bianchi, move as if they've done this a hundred times before- which, Mac realizes with a faint horror, they probably have.

One guard holds Mac's wrists together behind his back easily despite his struggles, and the other produces a zip tie from his pocket and uses it to restrain Mac's wrists, tightening the plastic to an almost cruel degree.

Then he's beaten again, this time worse than the last.

Finally, the blond is let go, but he's hauled to his knees again just as quickly by a large hand on his shoulder. His chest heaves, his head falls low. His bound hands rest limply behind him, and his eyes shutter closed. A hand fists itself in his hair and jerks his head upwards. Mac's gaze flashes up to see Bianchi's calm face filling his field of vision.

He tries to flinch backwards, but he's stopped by the man that's kept his hand fisted in Mac's hair. Bianchi speaks. "Are you ready to talk yet?"

Mac shakes his head, forcing out through gritted teeth, "Told… you. Don't know-"

He's cut off by a foot driven into his stomach, and, as the hand finally lets go of his hair, Mac hunches over his knees, trying desperately to draw air into his lungs. The agent is hauled roughly to his feet, and he vaguely hears Bianchi saying, "Take him to the basement," before he's dragged out of the room.

He's hustled through the house, not given a chance to get his feet under him, and, finally, brought before a large doorway. When the door opens it reveals a long set of stairs that vanish into darkness. He starts struggling, adrenaline kicking in, knowing instinctively that whatever is down there won't be good for him.

It doesn't work. The guards are too large, too strong. The darkness swallows him, and panic claws at his throat.

* * *

 **ff dot net logged me out when i tried to save the entire edited chapter so i had to redo the entire last three quarters and honestly im just so tired and done with this site**


	6. Chapter 6

**important info revealed in this chapter**

* * *

"Jack," Patty starts, and oh, that's not good. "I want you to know that we're doing everything we can, and you need to stay here and let me explain before you rush off."

Jack stares at Patty. "This is about Mac, isn't it."

It's not a question. She nods, and Jack huffs out a breath before sinking onto his couch. He had thought it was strange when Patty showed up at his house unannounced. He makes a gesture with his hand. "Well? You gonna enlighten me, or what?"

Patty clears her throat, her concern visible in her eyes. "Mac's been kidnapped."

Jack's glad that he's sitting down, because he's not sure he'd be able to stay on his feet after that announcement. "By who?"

Patty shrugs. "We're not sure yet. Camera footage from the cameras in the hospital show nothing. We think they were wiped."

Jack rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes before he looks up at his boss again. "Let me get this straight," he says, teeth gritted as he forces out the words. "Mac was kidnapped from a public hospital and we have no clue who took him."

He stands, hands clenching at his sides. He opens his mouth to yell again, but Patty cuts him off, her eyes blazing with a fierce anger. "You think I'm not mad about this too? You think I'm not worried sick for him? He's twenty, Jack, he's my youngest agent- my youngest friend. I want to sit here and yell just as much as you do, but I can't, because I have to run this whole damn manhunt, and you need to either stay here until you cool down and can be of some use, or swallow your frustration and help me."

Jack glares right back at her, pushing aside his surprise at Patty's outburst as he takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "Fine. Let's go back to HQ, get something done."

Patty nods, then turns on her heel and leads the way out of the house. Jack has a feeling that he won't be getting an apology.

(He doesn't really think he deserves one, honestly, but that's a thought for a different day.)

* * *

They've been going over statements for the hospital staff for an hour when Patty's phone rings. She glances at it, then stands. "I need to take this. Keep going over the statements, and I'll be back in a bit."

Jack nods, automatically going back to reading over the statement of one doctor that vaguely remembers seeing a blond patient that somewhat matches Mac's description being wheeled towards the exit of the facility.

When Patty reenters the room, Jack glances up at her, then at the clock. It's only been five minutes. Strange that an important phone call only took that short of an amount of time. "Who was it?"

Instead of telling him to mind his own business, which Jack honestly expects, Patty glances down at the closest file as she snags it and flips it open. "Some… powerful friends. They'll be here in a bit. They think they might have a lead."

Jack keeps his mouth shut, even though he's itching to ask Patty who they are, what they have, and any other details that he can think of that might be relevant to the situation. Instead, he asks, "Any updates from the search teams?"

Patty silently shakes her head, continuing to scan the file in her hands. If she's surprised by Jack's restraint, she doesn't show it.

Jack goes back to his file as well.

* * *

After another half-hour of looking through files, Jack's thoroughly engrossed in his task. As such, it takes him by surprise when Patty's phone rings again. His head jerks up as he startles, and Patty glances over at him as she answered the ringing cell. "Hello?"

After a few moments of listening to whoever is on the other end, she stands, motioning to Jack. "Come on. They're here."

Jack stands as well without a word. He isn't even curious as to who it is as long as they have information about where his friend might be. The pair make their way through the hallways, silence bearing down on all sides. The only sound that breaks the quiet is the clicking of Patty's heels on the floors.

When they finally entered a small, secluded room in a far-removed corner of the base, Patty glanced over at him and says, "Don't overreact," before opening the door.

Jack frowns, stepping through the doorway. However, when he sees who's standing in the room, his steps stutter to a stop. "What are you two doing here?"

Francis raises his hands in an innocent gesture. "The same reason that I imagine you are, my friend. To find Mr. MacGyver."

Jack's forehead creases in confusion. "What are you two going to be able to do? Uh, no offense."

Francis smiles. "None taken. We have some… connections."

Jack sinks down to sit on a convenient couch as the truth strikes him. "Oh my- you're in the mob. You're in the mob."

Francis trades glances with Alfonso. "Well, yes. But we don't exactly run a typical mob. Much less killing, for one. Uh, anyway, we believe that Mr. MacGyver-"

"Mac," Jack interrupts, still staring at the floor.

"Pardon?"

"Mac. He prefers Mac."

Francis nods. "Mac, then. We believe that Mac has been taken by a rival gang, the leader of which is an Alfonso Bianchi. We believe that he thinks Mac is part of our gang, and wants information on us-"

"And why," Jack grits out, tone suddenly serious and deadly, uncaring that he's interrupting the other man, "Would he think Mac was part of your gang?"

Francis winces, and Antonio is the one who replies. "Well, when he saved my life, Bianchi must've assumed-"

Jack suddenly shoots to his feet and is across the room in a flash, slamming Antonio into the wall, his arm tight across the younger man's throat. "What?" He snarls, his face a mask of rage. "Mac saved your life, and this is what he gets?"

Francis takes a cautious step forward, but it is Patty that speaks, breaking her silence for the first time since entering the room. "Let him go, Jack. We both know that there's nothing you could've done in this situation. No one could've foreseen it." When Jack doesn't let Antonio go, her voice hardens, and she adds, "This isn't helping Mac, Jack."

Finally, Jack steps back. The younger man watches him cautiously, rubbing his throat as his father begins to speak again. "We've heard rumors that Bianchi is convinced that he captured someone from our organization. He thinks that he's finally found a weak link, or something of the sort."

Thornton frowns. "He's going to have to realize that he's wrong at some point when Mac won't give him any information, right?"

Francis shakes his head. "Not necessarily. Bianchi, when he is convinced of something, he is like a dog with a bone. He will not give up the idea until he gets what he wants."

Antonio pales as he realized the implications of that first. "Bianchi doesn't care what Mac says. If he's convinced of something, he'll go to any means necessary to prove himself right."

Jack curses. "We need to find him, now."


	7. Chapter 7

The creak of the door that leads into his bedroom-turned-cell is the only thing that alerts Mac that someone is coming for him. Still, he struggles to his feet, determined to meet his captors standing.

After all, that's what he's been doing. Wouldn't do to stop it after all this time. _This time_ being a relative statement, Mac decides. He has no idea how long he's been Bianchi's captive, although he suspects it's somewhere around three days.

In a way, not knowing how long it has been is one of the worst things about the entire situation. He can take the pain, has taken it before, but he has always, always known how long it had been. He knows how long it normally takes the DXS to put together a rescue team- and they are looking, he knows they are- and he has no idea if that time has been passed yet or not.

He keeps losing time, too. He's been beaten or drugged into unconsciousness multiple times, and he'd wake days- hours- minutes- seconds later, and he had no idea which it was.

(He doubts, sometimes, that anyone is looking for him, and then he remembers that Jack's out there somewhere, and he knows that Jack won't stop looking for him until there's nothing left of him to find, and even then he won't stop until that's been uncovered

Sometimes he worries that there won't be anything left of him to find.)

The floor outside creaks again. Muffled sobs sound. Mac wavers on his feet, fear forcing the air from his chest like a fist to the gut. He refuses to show fear, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it.

It's going to be a long time before he can put his head fully underwater again.

Finally, the door opens. Mac prepares himself to be led away, but instead, a girl's shoved into the room and a furious man enters after her. He's huge, built like Jack and a foot taller, and his face is one that Mac's become sadly acquainted with after the past however-long-it's-been, as it seems that this man is Bianchi's chief information gatherer.

Instinctively, Mac crouches down to help the girl, pulling her back from the other while he keeps his eyes fixed on his captor's face, reluctant to look away from the imminent danger. The man sneers down at the girl, before transferring his gaze to Mac. "I'll be back for you later."

With that he turns his back and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The click of the lock echoes through the sudden silence.

Once he's gone, Mac looks at the girl. She's in a fairly expensive dress, and one of the straps of her dress is torn- nothing's been exposed yet, but it's only a matter of time before the girl's modesty is compromised. Without hesitation, Mac strips the jacket from his shoulders- a flimsy thing, one they'd given him after it became clear that Mac would become severely sick without some form of warmth in the cold, damp basement- and hands it to the girl.

She's sitting against the wall now, and her cries have died down. She flinches when Mac steps towards her, and he immediately drops into a crouch, holding up his hands to show that he doesn't have anything except his jacket. Then, carefully, slowly, he shuffles forward, extending the jacket to the girl- woman, really. She looks like she's twenty-three or twenty-four.

She takes the jacket slowly and drapes it over her shoulders, relief flashing through her eyes as she sinks into the warmth left behind by Mac. She sniffles once, then laughs shakily, raising her eyes to meet Mac's gaze. "I didn't expect to find such a gentleman down here."

Mac recognizes it as the humor that comes from the only options being either laughing or breaking down. He's experienced it himself more than once. He grins and says, "I try."

She sits up a little more, her gaze flitting around the room. "How long have you been here?"

Mac shrugs, sitting down across from her, still keeping his movements slow. "Not sure. Long enough for them to do this, though."

He gestures to his face. He hasn't seen himself in a mirror since this whole thing started- the tiny toilet and sink that's sitting in the right corner of his cell didn't come with a mirror- but he knows he's taken enough hits that he doesn't look anywhere near his best.

The woman looks at him for a moment, seeming to just realize why Mac's covered in bruises and cuts. "Oh my- they did that to you?"

Mac nods, suddenly regretting his decision to bring it up. The woman looks like she's on the edge of hysterics as she pulls at the edges of her black hair. He hesitates, then speaks. "Why did they bring you here?"

The woman shrugs. "I'm afraid I don't know. They simply grabbed me off the street and knocked me out, and the next thing I knew, I was here."

She looks up at Mac, studying his face. "You seem familiar. Do I know you?"

Mac shakes his head. "I don't think so."

The woman continues to stare at him. "I think I've seen you before. You work for Francis Colombo, do you not?" Mac hesitates, and the woman laughs. "Don't worry, he is my father. I do not think that he will be upset with you for telling me that you work for him."

It's all very convincing- the way she peeks out from behind her hair, the way she looks desperate for some source of comfort- but something's still off, and Mac hasn't survived this long by ignoring his gut. He shakes his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The woman frowns. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Her voice has gone very, very soft. It sounds like the growl of a tiger before it pounces on its prey. Mac's hands clench involuntarily behind his back. "I'm sure."

The woman laughs, then. It is not a nice laugh. She stands, goes to the door, and raps three times. A guard opens the door and the woman turns to look at Mac. "Bring him upstairs."

Mac is pulled to his feet by the first guard and another, who joined them moments after the door was opened. His hands are yanked behind his back and restrained with zip ties- multiple, all of which cut into his skin. He's shoved out the door, and all he can think is that this might be the end, because it's obvious that these people don't believe him.

They are back in the same room he woke up in when he was first brought here. The walk passed too quickly.

Bianchi sits on the couch, the picture of serenity, the woman beside him, Mac's jacket on the floor by her feet. At the sight of it, Mac is suddenly aware of just how cold it actually is in the room.

Bianchi clears his throat, and Mac's forced to his knees. He tries to stare defiantly at the older man, but suspects that it comes out a bit weak. In any case, Bianchi begins to speak before Mac can dwell on it for too long. "Mr. MacGyver, you do not seem to understand your situation. Your stay here has been unpleasant, but it does not need to continue to be so."

Mac scoffs before he can stop himself, blurting out, "Is that why you sent your friend over there to me? To try and figure out how badly off I am?"

Bianchi shakes his head. "No, my friend, you have it all wrong. Miss Colombo here was sent as a way to trick you. It seems you learn quickly, though."

Mac's head shoots up at that. Bianchi laughs. "Yes, she is actually Colombo's daughter. After a falling out over the family business with her dear father, however, she is my right-hand man- or, well, woman. The entire thing was her idea."

Mac nods. "Good- to know." He has to force the words out between gritted teeth as he tries to ignore the pain in his side from being held in this position for so long. Bianchi raises an eyebrow, stands, and begins to pace. "I think we are tiring you, Mr. MacGyver. Let me cut to the chase."

Mac shakes his head. It takes more effort than he would like to think about. "Still- not gonna- work for you."

The pain in his side is almost unbearable, and the world suddenly goes white for a moment as a foot digs into his ribs with painful force and a fist comes out of nowhere to knock him to the ground. When Mac's able to see again, Bianchi is looming over him.

He tastes blood.

Bianchi's face twists in a cruel sneer as he looks down at the man slumped at his feet. "Look," he says, his voice dripping with condescension, "I can- and will- kill you if you do not tell me what I want to know. It is in everyone's best interests to tell me, yes?"

Mac bares his teeth in a bloody grin as he's hauled back to his knees by the guards behind him. "I don't think you were told 'no' enough as a kid, because you don't seem to understand the meaning of the word."

Bianchi snarls, then brings his hand up in a swift, harsh motion and slams the palm into the side of the blond's head in a heavy, open-handed slap. The blond teeters to the side, knocked off balance by the force of the blow. Bianchi nods to himself. "Very well. If you will not cooperate, then I have another use for you."

Mac, dazed and disoriented from the blow, can barely process Bianchi's next words. "Make him hurt. Do not kill him, not yet, but make him hurt."

Mac's dragged back towards the basement, and all he can think about as the ground passes under his feet in a nauseating blur, is how cold it will be in the basement without his jacket.

One thought springs up as he's pulled back into the darkness.

 _Please, Jack._

* * *

 **I hope you all enjoyed that!**

 **This will, unfortunately, be my last chapter up before the new year. I will be insanely busy over the next month, and also, I think, need a break from this story before I dive into the resolution. So, this longer-than-normal-chapter will hopefully tide you over until then.**

 **I want to give a special thank you to everyone who's reviewed- it really motivates me to continue this story.**

 **Tamuril2, I did find a way to work Mac being a gentleman into the story. ;).**

 **Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone, as well as any other holidays you may celebrate!**


	8. Chapter 8

**New chapter, finally.**

* * *

They're looking at a map when the phone rings. They've been going over the places that have been searched so far and where else might be a good place to look for Mac, but, and Jack hates to admit it, the young man's chances are growing slimmer as the minutes tick by.

And then the call comes, the loud, shrill ringtone shattering the somber air pervading the room. It's Francis' phone. He glances at the number, then motions for quiet as he answers. "How did you get this number?"

There's an answer and then he puts the phone on speaker. A familiar, greasy voice comes through the phone. "I gotta message from my boss. You might know him."

It's Pete Torny. Jack clenches and unclenches his hands, wanting nothing more at the moment than to make the man sorry for whatever involvement he might have in the entire situation. Something about the cop hadn't sat right with him from the beginning, and his instincts had been proven correct once again. If only he had listened to them in the first place.

Francis answers. "Let me hear it."

A rustling sound comes through the line, and then another, deeper voice that Jack doesn't recognize begins to speak. From the way that Antonio and Francis react, though, it's clear that this guy is bad news. "Hello, Signore Colombo."

Francis grits his teeth as he replies. "Signore Bianchi. To what do I owe the displeasure?"

A grim chuckle comes through the phone. "Ah, Francis, you have not changed since the last time we spoke. Still so-"

Francis cuts him off. "What do you want, Bianchi? I am a very busy man."

Jack can hear this Bianchi's smirk through the phone. "I believe I have something of yours."

There's more rustling, and the unmistakable sound of a pained groan. Then a faint voice says, "Sir?"

It's Mac. Jack knows the kid's voice better than he knows his own, and he starts for the phone as soon as he hears the pain in Mac's voice. He's stopped, though, by Thornton, who grabs his arm and holds a finger to her lips as she whispers, "I texted some agents. They're tracing the call but we need to keep him talking."

Francis, who had caught her words, nods and says into the phone, "MacGyver?"

It's a risky move, announcing Mac's name, but if Torny's there, he will have already told his boss. Mac answers. "Yessir."

Francis asks, "What have you told them?"

It's obvious to Jack that it's a ploy to buy time- let the captive speak, let them draw out their answers- it's something he's used himself more than once. Unfortunately, however, Bianchi seems to know this tactic as well, as there's the nauseating sound of flesh hitting flesh and a pained, surprised yelp that quickly turns into a groan.

Jack has to stop himself from shouting at the sound of Mac's pain. Bianchi's voice sounds again, his gloating tone even more pronounced this time around. "Ah, Colombo, you have not changed a bit, not since we were children. Always trying to outsmart me, yet never succeeding."

Francis' voice could freeze a desert when he speaks. "What do you want?"

"It is simple," Bianchi says. "You know exactly what I want. You know where to take it. I will meet you there at two tomorrow morning. You may bring six men. If you are not there or you bring more men than that, well. Your man will die a very painful death."

With that, the connection ends. Jack's gaze flicks to Patty, the question clear in her eyes. She shakes her head, face grim, mouth drawn into a tight line. "The techs didn't get a trace."

Francis speaks before Jack can express his frustration. "It does not matter. The phone would be a burner phone, and, in any case, I know where we need to go."

Jack holds up a hand. "Hold on a second. I think we-" he motions to himself and Thornton- "Need an explanation. What does Bianchi want?"

Francis sighs. "It is- complicated. He is my older brother, you see. Older by only twelve minutes, but still the oldest. That meant he was the heir to the family business. I disagreed with the way he ran things after our father died, so I took our mother's maiden name and half the men and decided to go my own way."

Antonio speaks for the first time in awhile. "You have heard of a benevolent uncle, yes? And an evil twin? Bianchi is the combination of these two concepts."

Francis nods. "Yes, and if we do not give him what he wants, he will kill your friend."

Jack crosses his arms. "And what, exactly, does he want?"

Francis pulls an old pocket watch from his pocket. "This."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "Please tell me that has some sort of emotional significance only."

The other man grimaces. "I am afraid not. The family business is intricate. I hold this watch because our father gave it to me. It is the symbol of authority over the men of the Bianchi mob. When I left, the men that were loyal came with me, but my brother had been adding to our ranks for some time with men that he had picked to be loyal only to him. My father meant for us to work together, Bianchi controlling the overall plan, me the loyalty of the men, but it obviously did not work out that way. With this watch, Bianchi would be able to purchase from and sell to anyone that accepted it as a token of his authority over the most powerful mob in the city."

Jack's almost afraid to ask. "How many would accept his authority?"

Francis' face is grim as he answers. "Enough. We cannot let him have it, but-"

Jack finishes his sentence. "But we can't let him kill Mac, either."

Patty speaks up, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I might have an idea, but we'll need to work fast, and it's risky."

Jack looks around the room. "I think I speak for everyone when I say that we don't care what it is as long as we get Mac back."

Patty nods, a grim grin spreading slowly across her face.


	9. Chapter 9

**well, here it is. the end.**

 **i'm calling author's liberty on what mac does, because i'm not actually sure if it's possible, but for obvious reasons i don't really want to google how to do it.**

 **anyways, hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Jack watches as a trio of large sedans pull into the parking lot of the warehouse where he and a small team of Phoenix agents are waiting with the Colombos. The night is a cold one, and Jack's breath hangs in the air every time he exhales.

It's a little too dramatic for his tastes, but, really, there's nothing he can do about the weather. Is he rambling? He rambles when he's nervous. Every time he does it on a mission, Mac shoots him that exasperated look that says-

The door to the first sedan opens, and Jack loses his train of thought, his focus immediately sharpening. He watches with baited breath as a man exits. The guy's built like a brick wall, but he's wearing an extremely nice- and expensive- suit that marks him as more than just hired muscle. This, combined with the shocking resemblance that the man bears to Francis Colombo, slots the man into the place in Jack's anger reserved especially for Bianchi.

Men keep piling out of the cars, and Jack cranes his head to catch a glimpse of Mac, but there's not sign of him. He can't help glancing at Patty, but her face is impassive. He knows, though, that she must be just as worried as he is.

Bianchi steps forward, a smug grin plastered on his face. He opens his arms, watching Francis. "Brother, it has been too long!"

Francis frowns. "It has not been long enough."

Bianchi's grin does not fade, but instead warps into a sneer. "Well, whatever you think, it does not matter. Do you have it?"

Francis nods wordlessly. Bianchi makes an impatient motion. "Well?"

This time it's Francis who smiles, grim and tired. "You'll see it after I see him."

Bianchi shrugs, motioning to a few of his men. "Very well."

Jack watches as they open the trunk of the sedan and haul out a familiar blond. The kid's in bad shape, and it becomes even more apparent as he's shoved to his knees by Bianchi. There's blood running from one ear, his left eye is swollen almost entirely shut, he's trembling and hunched over like his ribs are hurting, and his skin is painted with bruises.

Jack's urge to punch the man responsible is growing stronger by the second.

Francis speaks. "She did not come with you?"

Bianchi replies, "Your daughter?"

"She made it very clear that she did not consider herself my daughter after I refused to engage in less savory business practices that she thought were necessary to the running of the family business."

"Yes, she often tells me that the only way to survive is to be strong enough to do what must be done. Anything else is simply cowardice."

Francis frowns, but ignores the jab. "A trade, then? Meet halfway?"

Bianchi shakes his head, careless and lazy. "No. Choose a man to bring me the watch and then I will give you your man. And remember, he will die if you try any tricks."

Francis hesitates, playing the part of reluctant negotiator very well. Finally, he nods, and turns to Jack. "Take it to him."

Jack takes the watch, keeping his head down, and preparing himself for what he knows is about to come.

The gathering is silent as Jack's footsteps echo loudly in the night air.

As soon as he hits halfway, chaos breaks loose. The DXS agents rush Bianchi's men as they are taken by surprise. The distance is close enough that the agents reach them before any of the men have a chance to get a shot off. They just need to keep Bianchi's men busy until reinforcements arrive from where they've been stationed six blocks away.

Jack shoves the watch into his pocket. This is the part of the plan where it gets risky. Jack runs through the field, dodging groups of fighting men and women and ducking at the sound of the odd gunshot. There was a reason they had chosen to try for hand-to-hand combat instead of a firefight, and this is it.

He finally reaches Mac, who's huddled against the side of a sedan, curled into a ball to make himself as small a target as possible. Jack's steps stutter for a moment as he realizes just how much worse Mac looks up close. Still, he carries on.

He reaches Mac and puts a hand on his shoulder, gut clenching as the kid flinches away before he registers Jack's voice. "Hey, Mac, it's me."

Mac turns to look at Jack, relief flooding his gaze. "Jack?"

His voice is slurring worryingly, and Jack winces as he replies, "Yeah, brother. It's me."

Mac peers up at him as Jack finishes picking the cuffs on the younger man."We're getting out of here?"

Jack winces again. "In a minute." This was the part of the plan that they couldn't plan for. The DXS team had had no way of knowing how coherent Mac would be, and they had been relying largely on luck.

He reflects, briefly, that this is the first time in a long time that luck's been on their side. Then he says, "Can you build a flash grenade from the parts in the cars?"

Mac stares at the sedan for a moment, mind working overtime. "I- yeah. I need a minute with the engine of one of them. How big?"

Jack shrugs. "As big as you can make it, kid."

Mac nods again. "Okay."

Then he hauls himself to his feet, limping to the engine of the sedan. Jack wrenches open the door and pulls the hood release, then takes up a position by Mac to cover him. The younger man works frantically, hands moving with a speed that belies his outward appearance. He can't hide the tremors in his hands, but they don't hinder him from completing his task.

Jack glances over to check his progress and is immediately broadsided by Bianchi himself. The older man shoves him back against one of the other sedans with a vicious snarl. Jack grunts, winded. Mac glances up at him, but Jack shouts, "Keep going!"

He pushes back against Bianchi. They trade blows, Bianchi trying to get to Mac, Jack dead set on keeping him away from the kid.

Finally, Mac calls out, "Ready!"

Jack says, "On my mark."

He waits just a moment, then yells, as loud as he can, "Phoenix!"

Every person on his side slams their eyes shut at the same moment, a split second before Mac activates the grenade. The light blinds Bianchi and his men, and when Jack opens his eyes again, it's to DXS agents quickly and efficiently subduing Bianchi's men, who are clutching their faces in varying stages of blindness.

Bianchi himself blinks up at Jack, pupils tiny pinpricks from the sudden light. Jack grins viciously. "I've wanted to do this for a long time now, buddy."

He punches Bianchi and the other man drops like a rock. Jack shakes out his hand, then turns to check on Mac.

Jack watches as DXS agents mill around the scene and escort Bianchi and his men to the nearest police station. Other agents are on their way to Bianchi's headquarters, where they'll take down the rest of his crew. They'll be processed and tried in court, and Patty had told Jack that there were certain measures in place to ensure that they got a fair trial- and, by extension, got what they deserved. Jack himself had seen Torny and Bianchi shoved into a squad car together, and by the look on Bianchi's face, Torny did not have a pleasant ride- or life- ahead of him.

Jack turns back to the ambulance where Mac's worst wounds are being given a field dressing. When they go back to the DXS headquarters he'll receive proper medical care, but this is sufficient for now.

He sits down beside Mac and slings an arm around the kid, looking up at the medic that's finishing putting a bandage on Mac's hand. "What's the verdict?"

The medic smiles at Jack. "Mr. MacGyver is very lucky. He is not suffering any internal bleeding. He'll probably have pneumonia and feel pretty miserable because of his cracked ribs and concussion and eight thousand other bruises and scrapes, but, all told, it could've been a lot worse."

Jack grins, tightening his grip momentarily as the medic walks away. "You hear that, brother? You're gonna live to tinker another day."

Mac huffs out a laugh, then winces. "Thanks, Jack." The kid hesitates, then adds, "I knew you'd come for me."

Jack pulls the kid in closer. It's been a harrowing few days, but Mac's back, safe and relatively in one piece. He'll take it. "Of course I did, kid. And I always will."

They sit there together, watching Patty take care of the scene and the Colombos talk to people- probably their men, if Jack's honest- on the phone.

Things aren't back to normal yet, but they will be. And Mac will be with Jack to watch them return to normal.

Yeah, Jack'll take it.

* * *

Patty shakes hands with Francis. "It's been a pleasure, Signor Colombo."

He smiles. "I am glad that this worked out as well as it did last time, Miss Thornton."

She smiles back. "Are you sure I can't convince you two to stay in America?"

Antonio answers. "I think we are ready to see the old country again. Besides, someone has to ensure that the family business stays legal over there."

Patty's smile grows. "Well, I wish you the best of luck. Please, stay in touch."

The two men nod, then board their airplane. Patty watches them go, then turns to the car waiting for her.

Her agents are safe, and all is well.

Now, though, she's heard of a young hacker that's recently been brought in by the authorities. She might be worth keeping an eye on.

* * *

 **i hope you all enjoyed this, and especially you, Tamuril. this has taken me about a year to complete, which was around ten months longer than i had expected (or hoped), and i thank you for being so patient and also thank you to everyone who has reviewed and supported this story over the long time it's taken to complete.**

 **i'm officially announcing my hiatus from the macgyver fandom. i'll still be writing fanfiction (hopefully) for other fandoms and reading fanfic here, but it turns out that producing a LOT of content in a short period of time burns you out.**

 **thank you to everyone who's supported me here!**

 **i'm a bit more active on my AO3 account, under the same username as here. i also have a tumblr, suaimhneas-peace. come say hi!**


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